He stood silently, reaching out a hand to lift a black cape off the hook and tossed it over black clothed shoulders, fastening it with a smooth, practiced movement of pale fingers. Raven black hair reached his shoulders, framing a pale skinned, almost delicate looking face as it did so. Half-lidded eyes calmly swept over the cabin, which was bare of any identifying features to hint at who the occupant was.
Satisfied about something, the man turned and pushed the door open, gliding out of the small cabin, ignoring the slight rocking of the ship as he ascended stairs up onto the deck.
The blazing sun that pounded down upon his black clad form was calmly ignored, just as all other minor annoyances were. Ruby red eyes glittered coldly as he moved across the deck towards the prow, where another man stood with arms crossed across his chest.
Sailors moved out of his way as he passed, their eyes avoiding his ruby ones as they attempted to pretend that he didn’t exist.
I am their captain’s son, but they fear me for my appearance and manners. They do not know whether to flee or treat me like dirt, fearing their captain’s response to both actions. So they do nothing but attempt to pretend that I do not exist.
The thoughts whispered through his mind as he passed another group of sailors that averted their sea blue or earth brown eyes.
They know of no others who wear black completely as I do, or who have eyes of flaming ruby. They fear me.
Indeed, compared to them, he was an odd sight. Head to toe black, from his high collared black silk long sleeved shirt, to soft, black, fingerless gloves, then down to black silk pants and black boots that came up to just below his knee. That in and of itself was an oddity, as many, if not all, sailors never wore shoes, and only grudgingly wore sandals on land.
But he was not as them.
He had armor on as well, black as everything else, light compared to the armor of the land bound warriors, heavy compared to what a sailor usually wore.
“Father.” His voice was calm, no hint of a question within the single word he had spoken, his slightly deep, silky voice gliding over the word, void of any emotion besides calm. He watched as the man shifted and turned about to face him, watched as his father attempted to hide the slight wince he gave when he saw what his son was wearing yet again.
“You shouldn’t be wearing all of that black, Huifeng,” his father’s admonitory words had a sigh hidden behind them, for he knew it was useless to fight with his son over this.
Huifeng shrugged, ruby eyes never blinking or looking from his father’s face, “I wish to.”
His father sighed, then turned back to scanning the vast waters with dark amethyst eyes. They stood there in silence for some time, before Huifeng’s father finally spoke, “We are sailing for the Maze Canyons, son, to do battle with some bandits there. I assume that you wish to join with the ground forces as always, correct?”
“Who.”
The captain winced mentally, wishing once again that his son would actually speak in true sentences, instead of the few words that were all that anyone could ever coax out of the man, “We’re fighting for Zhan Tan. I’m sure you heard the commotion when Xan Luan pulled himself up onto the deck. Well, apparently, this Zhan Tan has managed to tame those two wandering nomads, turning them into his bodyguards.”
“I will join. Fight alongside.”
“As you wish, son. You’ll come with me, then, when Luan and I go to meet with this Zhan Tan.”
Huifeng nodded, just a small movement of his head, before turning and moving away from his father, heading back towards his cabin. But he stopped when only halfway there, noticing his father’s friend, Luan, coming up from below.
Too chatty he is. I wish for privacy now, not a nomad attempting to make me speak.
A quick movement was all it took, as he grabbed a hold of a piece of rigging, and began scaling his way swiftly to the top of the main mast, as quick and agile as any sailor, despite his armor, cape, and boots. With a sigh he settled down against the mast, legs crossed underneath him as he sat in the crows nest, ignoring the sailor who ignored him.
This was one of the better places to escape to. The lookouts had no fear of him, strangely enough, and even welcomed his help in scanning the horizon, if he felt like offering it.
Soon enough he would be meeting another warlord, would be fighting another battle for no reason, would come face to face with death yet again, fighting for a cause he did not believe in.
But it was better than fighting and taking from innocents who could not fight back. Even his father seemed to have some trouble with that, yet he still did it, claiming that there was no other life he could lead, as no lord would take him in.
Sometimes… sometimes he wished for the anonymity of the battlefield, where no one cared who he was, or what he wore. Where no one attempted to make him speak, or asked him constantly about how he was feeling.
Where he and he alone controlled whether he lived or died.
Rising, he stepped up beside the lookout, leaning on the edge of the crows nest and scanning the horizon, letting the wind whip at his black hair, tangling the strands in a matter of minutes.
Luan watched in wide eyed amazement as Huifeng stopped, eyed him, then grabbed a hold of some rigging and clambered up to the crows nest before he could even articulate a single word in greeting.
Stunned, he glanced at the man’s father and his best friend, Zhu Xuan, noticing the sad amethyst eyes watching his son for a second.
“Antisocial, isn’t he,” Luan muttered as he stepped up beside Xuan and leaned against the railing, staring down at the clear blue water that the ship slid through gracefully.
His friend sighed, “And he’s gotten worse lately too. No one can seem to do anything about it, either.”
“The crew is afraid of him.”
Xuan nodded, a grimace on his face, “They fear him, and he shuns them in return. The only ones that don’t seem to care how he acts or dresses are the lookouts, and they’re almost as withdrawn as he is, so it’s no wonder he spends so much time up there.”
Glancing at the water as well, Xuan spoke again after a slight pause, “He’s going to be joining the land battle, Luan. That’s become his practice of late, not fighting as a sailor, but fighting as a warrior of the land.”
Luan eyed his friend out of the corner of his eye, “Sounds like he’s turning mercenary, you might have to watch out for him just up and vanishing one of these days.”
“Dare I stop him? He’s not happy as a pirate, or even a sailor of any sort.” Sighing, Xuan ran a hand through his smoky blue-gray hair, “And he’s shown no interest in joining any of the people we’ve had contact with. I just don’t know what to do with him anymore.”
“… then maybe you should allow him to leave on his own. If he’s not happy here, and he shows no inclination to join any lord permanently, let him choose his own path.”
“I should, shouldn’t I,” Xuan sighed again, turning his gaze upwards and twisting around until he could see Huifeng in the crows nest, scanning the horizon with the lookout.
“There’s nothing I could ever say to hold him against his will.”
Ruby eyes spotted the speck of something upon the horizon seconds before the lookout did. A small gesture drew the lookout’s eyes to the speck, and a small nod of thanks was given to him, as the lookout cried out to the rest of the crew.
“Land ho! Straight ahead, mates!”
Huifeng stood there for a few minutes longer, watching the speck of land on the horizon growing larger.
Another tiny country, another warlord, another bloody battle ahead. I grow bored of this life.
Tossing himself over the edge of the crows nest in his usual manner of descent, he grabbed a hold of rigging swiftly, hands darting from rope to rope as he fell, slowing his descent to the point where he could land on his feet with almost no noise. Ignoring the stares as usual, Huifeng slipped down below deck, making his way swiftly to his own cabin.
I call it my own cabin, but there’s nothing of me here. I could leave now, and few would ever know that this was where I lived and slept for most of my life.
… I could leave now…
Yes… he could leave, not now, but after the battle was over, slipping off in the chaos of the aftermath, where everyone was getting everything back into some semblance of order.
Few, he doubted, would even realize that he was gone. Oh, his father would, true, but practically no one else.
A rare smile flickered across his face, as he lifted up his katana from where it rested on the desk, strapping it to his waist, adjusting it with his right hand until it hung properly, as his left reached out and picked up his helmet. The black metal was cool in his hand, as he looped a strap that hung from his left hip through a clip on the helmet designed for that, tying it off carefully, making sure that the knot would not come undone at a bad time.
Pausing, he looked at the smaller blade that went with the katana, meant to be wielded in his off hand. His father had got it and the katana from some foreign trader several years ago and, while he had never truly given much thought to wielding both weapons, he was able. Heavens knew he had practiced until becoming equally proficient with both hands… as well as with almost all types of swords and bows. Polearms did not fit into a sailor’s way of life, though, so his knowledge of them extended only on how to thwart their wielders in battle.
Huifeng shrugged, picking the wakizashi up as well and slipping it onto the belt, below and a bit behind his helmet.
My weapons, my helmet… all I need now is to pack some clothes and nonperishable rations and I’ll be ready, not only to join in with their battle, but to leave afterwards.
Hefting up pack that already had enough rations to last him for a few days, he sorted through what was in it, nodding to himself in content. Good, it was all still there, and all in good order as well.
Pale fingers tugged open the small chest where he kept all his clothes. Ruby eyes swept over the grays and blacks that filled the chest, as he swiftly lifted out and folded several pairs of clothing. Huifeng stopped, staring, at the fabric that was now exposed in the chest.
Ruby red, with a simple pattern of flames along the edges, the shirt stood out against the blacks that rested around it. Blinking, he lifted it up, staring at it in amazement as ruby red fingerless gloves fell to the floor, a single, medium sized ruby at each wrist sparkling in the light that managed to filter into his dark room.
I forgot that I even had these things. How long ago was it that father gave them to me? A year? Two? This was his last attempt at getting me to wear something besides black… and I must admit, they are a rather nice color.
With a shrug, he folded the shirt and shoved it into the bottom of his pack, followed with the pants and gloves. Never know when something like that could come in handy. And it wasn’t as if it weighed that much.
Closing the pack with swift movements, he settled back on his hammock, adjusting the two weapons at his waist until he was comfortable. All there was to do now was wait.